


Like Other Girls

by lea_hazel



Series: Decline and Fall [13]
Category: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem (Visual Novel)
Genre: Canon Backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Espionage, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Infidelity, Rebellion, Revaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-07 21:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17373683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_hazel/pseuds/lea_hazel
Summary: "Like I said, I can take it. I've been treated rough by men all my life. I'm not some delicate flower."





	1. Chapter 1

Jarrod was an easy man to manage, after all. Perhaps not to Princess Verity, who was young and foreign and still so anxious to please, but Nissa had been managing men all her life. Her father, her first husband, of whom she never spoke... Even her brother. One spoilt princeling was no challenge in comparison. And after all that's all he was, an overgrown child, spoiled rotten by his parents but denied any genuine affection or approval. Under different circumstances, Nissa might have been tempted to pity him, a little.

But what pity she had left, and there wasn't much of it, she reserved for those more deserving of it. Jarrod was quite good enough at pitying himself. Right at that moment, he was sulking about being left alone in the capital while his sister trotted off to have some grand hunting adventure, and dragged his new bride along with her. Pity the boy didn't know what he wanted himself. Only a week or two earlier, he'd been complaining about being saddled with a naive young wife, as though he hadn't agreed to their arrangement with eyes wide open.

He had called for her so often that week that Nissa all but gave up on returning with Kavita to her town-house, and resigned herself to finding ways not to appear out of place, wandering the Old Palace until she was summoned. The up side of this was that it gave her an opportunity to befriend some of the higher-ranking staff, and ingratiate herself at the kitchens. Low connections could be invaluable, if and when her high connections should fail her. Most days, Nissa would gamble on ' _when_ ' rather than ' _if_ '. But since that day had not yet come, her highest connections had to come at the expense of all else, like when she was forced to leave a party early when he called on her.

He was too volatile to provoke, and too childish to be able to tolerate even the slightest deferral of his expectations. When the Prince called, Nerissa came running. Or riding, as the case might be. She'd ridden more in the past few months than ever before in her life.

Now, though, she was curled up in bed, wearing nothing but her shift, while the Prince lay sprawled on his back, staring at the ceiling. As though he had anything of substance to be concerned about, as though he hadn't had his every need met, almost before he could think to ask for it. If he kept sulking, he would work himself into a fit, and as usual, it was on Nissa to distract him from his own self.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

He frowned at her, like she knew he would. "Nothing," he said. "What a stupid question."

"Then why aren't you looking at me?" she asked, pouting.

Jarrod rolled over on his side, and she straightened up, tugging her shift down over thighs. He was having none of it, though. Scowling, he propped himself up on one elbow and pushed the bunched up fabric up her leg again, revealing her mottled, milky-white skin.

"Did I do that?" he asked, tracing his fingers over the bruises almost lovingly.

"Don't worry about it," replied Nissa. "I come from hardy stock. I can take it."

Her words seemed to have the desired effect, as now he was fully focused on her, and had forgotten whatever he'd been fretting about. He ran his hand up and down her leg a few times, pressing down on the dark, purplish blotches. Nissa didn't flinch, which didn't even require any special effort on her part. He was so predictable.

"I don't remember seeing these before," he said.

"Maybe you just never noticed them until now," she suggested.

"Does this always happen?" he asked.

"No," said Nissa. "You've been very busy, this week."

"I've had a lot on my mind," he said, flopping back down on the mattress.

"I know," said Nissa.

She pulled the offending shift back down and, lying down next to him, curled up against his side, her head resting on his chest. His arm came around her thoughtlessly, to close over her waist and draw her in tighter.

"You know why I like you?" he asked, and didn't wait for an answer. "Because you're never _difficult_. Some girls are always making things difficult, but you're not like that."

"I'm flattered," said Nissa, "that you think I'm not like other girls."

His hand wandered over her side, drawing small circles on the linen of her shift.

"I didn't," he began to say, and cleared his throat. "I didn't mean _that_. Just that you're easy to be with."

"Because I can take rough treatment?" asked Nissa, amused.

He balked.

"It's all right," said Nissa. "Like I said, I can take it. I've been treated rough by men all my life. I'm not some delicate flower."

"Not like some girls," he said.

"No," said Nissa. "Other girls were raised to be delicate, and you have to be gentle with them. They bruise easily, and hurt too much, even if you don't mean to hurt them. I think you underestimate how strong you are, my Prince."

"What?" he asked, raising his head slightly.

Nissa curled her free arm around him, making soothing noises deep in her throat until he quieted and lay back down.

"It's easy to hurt someone when you don't mean to," she said softly, "especially for a man like you."

He muttered something unintelligible, a half-sentence with no meaning. Already he was drifting off to sleep. It would be a gamble to stay, since he wouldn't want her about when anyone of substance or rank could see her in his room. But if he woke in the middle of the night and found her gone, he would be cross with her, and he might not invite her back for a day or two. Since she was meant to keep a close eye on him, that wasn't an acceptable outcome to her. Better to risk getting caught by someone who could do no worse than gossip viciously or make snide remarks.

Next to rough treatment by men, snide contempt was the ill Nerissa was most equipped to deal with. She'd had plenty of practice of both.

Later, when she got back to the relative privacy of the ambassadorial residence, she could take advantage of Kavita's hospitality and make note of what she'd overheard. Jarrod was not only prone to whistling for her as he would to a trained dog, but also neglected to remember that she was present in the room whenever he wasn't actively pawing at her. She'd spent many a long evening sitting in his lap or draped against his side while he played cards, and blabbed about whatever small measure of secret knowledge he was allowed to hold. Since the King was absent and the Crown Prince was nominally in charge, he was even more incautious than usual. Nissa had a great deal to write about. Enough that she would have to divide it into several letters. The code would't withstand interrogation if the text being ciphered was too long.

Though not an observant man, Prince Jarrod had correctly noticed that Nerissa Exeane was, indeed, not much like other girls her age.

 

* * *

 

He had been moody at being left alone to be held responsible for the affairs of the castle, when he would rather spend his days riding or hunting and his nights gambling and drinking. Now that his father was back early, and the responsibilities of the crown no longer weighed heavily on his fragile golden head, he was not cheered in the least. Which Nerissa would have anticipated, if she had known in advance that the King was returning to Starfall City. Something about his surprise return was suspicious to her, but she knew that she couldn't ask Jarrod about it. For one thing, he would become listless if she did something so boring as to take an interest in politics. For another, she doubted he knew much more than she on the subject.

The worst part of being a spy, as far as Nissa was concerned, was having to pass her information on to someone else. Someone else would get her reports, and similar ones from a dozen other agents like her, and assemble them all together. That someone would gain the privilege of holding all this dangerous information and unraveling its secrets. She would much rather be the person putting secrets together, than the one ferreting them out. If for no other reason than she assumed it would leave fewer bruises. Hers was not such a fortune, however, so she rode fast to the Old Palace as soon as she heard rumor that King Hyperion had been seen.

"He doesn't trust me!" Jarrod was raging at the heavens, or at least, he was raging at the plastered ceiling of the bathhouse.

Nissa wrapped her legs around his waist and ran long, soapy fingers through his hair until he quieted and settled back down, sinking back into the water and her warm embrace.

"He hasn't a choice," she said in soothing tones, "has he? You're his heir. You'll gain the throne when he's gone, whether he likes it or not. That's the law of the land."

Jarrod muttered grudging agreement.

"And weren't you just saying how dull judgement day is?" she asked, softly in his ear, while she lathered up his dusty hair. This time he was the one covered in bruises, having stormed away to vent his spleen on the training fields.

Jarrod muttered some more. "That's the worst of it," he complained. "I'm not even excused from _that_. I have to sit and listen to a bunch of filthy _peasants_ complain, while _he_ sits on his high vaunted seat above, and passes judgment."

"It sounds dreadfully dull," said Nissa sympathetically.

"I'll lose my mind before the day is over," he complained. "I know I will."

"I won't let that happen," she promised, gently stroking his head. "You know I wouldn't. I'll be by your side, all day if you need me to. I won't _let_ you get bored."

"Well," said Jarrod grumpily, "that's good, then. Just don't be late."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are limits to Nerissa's friendship.

She was late. Not deliberately, of course. She never would have provoked him like that on purpose, not if it could be helped. But she had come upon a troubling rumor with regards to the King's inauspicious ride to Starfall City, and she couldn't bring herself to abandon it. As much as she told herself that she didn't care, _couldn't_ care, had no reason to care -- If the King was sending soldiers to Exeane, she was obliged to send word ahead. Unsuspicious word, if at all possible. If only she could trust that her father could decipher the intent written between the lines. Or, more likely, one of her younger siblings, if they could get their hands on the letter once her father had discarded or forgot it.  
  
Claude was intent that the young ones shouldn't be drawn into their affairs. He'd only reluctantly brought Nissa herself into the fold, after all, and then only after she'd insisted. After her husband's death, when a pall of scandal had been cast on her and her reputation was in tatters. That was what it had taken for her to convince Claude that the life of a gentle lady was beyond her reach, once and for all. Emmaline and Eugenie and the others... He wanted to protect them, just as he had once tried to protect Nissa herself.  
  
Their parents might have raised him to be a girl, but Claude didn't let that stop him from cultivating a very masculine protective instinct. It was sweet, in its interfering way.  
  
But she was late, and late enough that if she arrived at the throne room Jarrod might very well cause a public scene. In front of hundreds of common people, not to mention the King, and a dozen of his smug aristocratic friends. The boys Jarrod spent his time with had already heard every crude and awful thing he had to say about her, and she didn't fear them. The King, however... Nissa was still hopeful she could remain beneath his notice. Hyperion Asper was not a man whose attention was to be taken lightly, and Nissa was not reckless enough to provoke it.  
  
So she made use of some of the handier skills she had recently acquired, and picked the lock on Jarrod's door. If he returned to his room in a lather, he would find her sprawled half-naked on his bed, just as he preferred her. Sleeping peacefully, to all appearances.  
  
A crude trick, but it just might work. He was not a man of intellectual finesse, after all.  
  
Her plan faltered when the last few restless nights finally caught up to her, and she actually dozed off. Jarrod was a spoilt little boy who was used to having the best of everything, and not questioning whether he deserved any of it. Accordingly everything in his bedroom was of the finest quality, just on principle, and that extended to his bed linen, which was almost preternaturally soft. Most of the time Nissa spent in this bed was not spent sleeping, so it was a bit of luxury she didn't mind snatching. Unfortunately, her stolen moment of peace didn't last nearly long enough.  
  
She was woken by the sound of the great oaken door slamming open, and then slamming shut again.  
  
Jarrod stalked into the room, running his hands through his hair in agitation, until it stood all on end. When he came into view of the half-curtained bed, he rounded on her, finger pointed accusingly. It took all of Nerissa's courage not to flinch or startle, and undo months of her own hard work. But it wasn't herself that the Crown Prince was so enraged at.  
  
"She came back!" he said.  
  
Nissa blinked at him sleepily, drawing the bedsheets around herself. "Who came back?" she asked.  
  
He grumbled under his breath, sitting down heavily on the bed beside her, but was not inclined to answer directly.  
  
Nissa drew herself up and leaned against his back, hugging him from behind. "Whatever it is," she said soothingly, "put it out of your mind. It's not important enough to get upset over."  
  
"I'm not upset!" he insisted, his hands clenching into fists.  
  
"Hmm?' she murmured, running her fingers up his back and into the soft, fine hairs at the nape of his neck.  
  
"I'm not upset," he said again. "I'm angry."  
  
"Why don't you tell me all about it?" she suggested, softly in his ear.  
  
"Don't baby me," he replied sulkily. "I'm a grown man."  
  
All the same, her let her draw him down to the bed and rested his head in her lap, eyes closed, while she combed her fingers through his hair in long, soothing motions.  
  
"Tell me all about it," she murmured. "Who's back?"  
  
For the first time she could recall, she saw heat rise up in his pale face, but his eyes remained determinedly shut.  
  
"Verity," he mumbled.  
  
"Ah," said Nissa, feeling everything fall slightly into place. "The Princess is back in the capital. Both the Princesses, I imagine."  
  
Jarrod groaned. "My sister," he said. "I didn't even think about that."  
  
"Well, she's not here, now, is she?" said Nissa. "So she can't bother us."  
  
"She could," he grumbled. "I wouldn't put anything past her. She's a high-handed vixen. You shouldn't let her see you here, she'd be livid."  
  
"No one saw me enter, my Prince," said Nissa. "I'm very careful."  
  
"I know you are," he said.  
  
"But surely a man of your power has nothing to fear of his own sister?" she suggested softly. "Who is she? Just a girl, and you the Crown Prince of the most powerful empire in the known world."  
  
"N-no," he said slowly. "Of course I'm not afraid of Gisette. She would never hurt me, and she couldn't hope to fight me, anyway. She could do a lot to _you_ , though."  
  
"You were concerned for my safety?" she asked. "How touching. I had no idea you felt that way."  
  
"Yes, well, you'd be a terrible bother to replace," he said.  
  
She smoothed the frown-lines out of his forehead with her thumbs. "No need to hide it," she said. "I promise I won't be your weakness."  
  
"No," said Jarrod in his sulkiest tone, "of course you won't, but _she_ might."  
  
That was certainly interesting. It would be most inconvenient to Nerissa's goals if the Prince did something so gauche as to fall in love with his own wife. Not to mention, it would put Princess Verity in a terribly awkward position. She had no doubt that the Princess would much prefer to keep a healthy distance between herself and her husband. She'd all but said as much to herself and Kavita, on several occasions. Nissa couldn't really blame her. And she was rather fond of the little Princess, in a way. She was cleverer than she let on, although still unbearably naive, and dangerously ill-prepared for Revaire's particular brand of intrigue. Why she didn't marry the Crown Prince of Wellin, Nissa would _never_ understand. By all accounts he was a much more amiable man than Jarrod, and almost infinitely less likely to die a violent, gruesome death within the next few years.  
  
But she'd been sent to Starfall City to search out the Crown Prince's weaknesses and vulnerabilities and, much as she disliked the idea, this revelation fell within her purview. If the Prince were so kind as to willingly hand her the information she expected to have to dig after, she couldn't very well refuse it. She would have to pass it on to whoever it was who read her little notes and decoded them, regardless of the consequences to Verity. Much as the thought sat ill with her. If the shadowy figures who wrote out her orders decided that they needed to use the Arland Princess as a weapon... Well. Was that really her responsibility, after all? She had a mission, and the greater good to think of, and all that.  
  
Too many concerns to pay mind to the safety and comfort of one very naive girl.


End file.
